No One Shoots Like
by TrenchcoatsAreSexy
Summary: Gaston is transported into the future, and he meets up with a modernday teenager. Bizarrity ensues. Not Mary Sue, I swear. Death to Mary Sues! Originally had another title, as you can see.
1. Chapter 1

Part of This Idyllic Scene

_By Sarajane_

He would get that beast. That beast who had stolen his Belle. How could she love him… how could this have happened? Why would she want a monstrous creature when she could have had him… Gaston? The strongest, most handsome man in town… and perhaps the whole world?

That beast thought he was letting Gaston off by not killing him. But instead, he would make Gaston look like a fool! Gaston, at the mercy of THAT thing… Never…

Gaston plunged forward, stabbing the beast twice in quick succession… But suddenly… suddenly he could feel his feet slip on the roof of the tower… He needed to keep his balance… The beast roared up in shock from the stab, and Gaston felt himself shoot over the edge of the balcony and into the air.

Now he was falling… No, no, this couldn't happen… He was Gaston… And now, could it be? This young, he was going to…? And now he was screaming, and he was…

THUD.

All at once, Gaston could feel his mighty body contort. His bones cracked and his muscles twisted as he let out another yowl.

And then, just as quickly as the pain had come, it dissipated. And he could see light. Now, he thought to himself, how did this happen? Was this Heaven?

But, as he picked himself up off the ground, looking around he thought to himself that it didn't look like any Heaven he'd ever heard of. There was a waterfall over his head, and the ground was made of some kind of strange shiny substance. He then became aware that there were many people walking around him, speaking a language he didn't understand a word of.

What was he going to do?

Meanwhile, Margalit Munoz, age eighteen, was walking through The Gallery. The Gallery was the subway mall located between the 8th and 11th Street and Market Street intersections in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Margalit wasn't from Philadelphia – she was from Media, an outlying suburb of the city.

Margalit was half Israeli and half Puerto Rican. She was not very tall – about five foot four – and had short black hair, tanned skin, and hazel eyes. A good amount of other students at her high school – Clearview High – also spent most of their time at the Gallery, and a few were currently watching her from a bench.

"Ew, it's Margalit," said one girl, a blonde named Carolyn. Her companion, a caramel-skinned African-American girl named Tawny, nodded. Margalit walked by them, engrossed in the book she was reading.

"Why does she even bother to come to the Gallery? She's such a loser," Tawny declared. They both giggled.

Margalit was oblivious, and she was still working on her reading-and-walking act when she bumped right into a tall, dark, oddly dressed man who immediately beseeched her, "Ou est moi, mademoiselle?" She raised an eyebrow, glad to have studied four years of French in high school.

"Tu es dans La Gallerie," she responded. The man looked very confused. "Comment t'appelle tu?"

"Je m'appelle Gaston," he replied.

Wait, Margalit thought to herself, this can NOT be happening.


	2. Chapter 2

Margalit thought for a moment and then blurted out a question in French that she really knew she shouldn't have been asking. Translated into English, it was something to the effect of "For real? No lie? Like Gaston in Beauty and the Beast?"

Gaston looked at her like she had lost her mind.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he replied, "The only beauty around here is mine." Margalit looked offended. "Well, besides you."

"Oh, thank you," Margalit said sarcastically. Thinking that if that really WAS Gaston from Beauty and the Beast, he probably was a real drag to hang around, she took a step away from him.

"Really, I mean it," he continued, stepping in front of her.

"Really, I have things to go and people to see," Margalit snapped back, going back to her book. Gaston chortled.

"Really, so YOU'RE into books, too?" He snatched it out of her hand. "What's this one about? Fairy princesses? Beanstalks?" The French had gotten too fast for Margalit to understand him, so she simply rolled her eyes and reached out to grab back her book. As she did, Gaston saw the cover. He couldn't recognize the title, but he certainly recognized something on the cover – guns! She was reading a book about guns! She grabbed her book back and gave him a hard shove – since he WAS Gaston and she weighed about 120 pounds, he wasn't going anywhere, but he was seeing repeats of Belle in this situation. However, it was a Belle who liked guns. This could be an interesting challenge. "I'm sorry," Gaston said, putting a hand on her shoulder. She rolled her eyes.

"You'd better be," Margalit shot back, "You don't even know me." And, she thought to herself, you may very well be a cartoon character.

"Now, can I ask you? What language is everyone speaking? And what is all this? The Gallery? It doesn't look like an art gallery." Not that Gaston had ever BEEN in an art gallery.

"It's not an art gallery," said Margalit, laughing and sticking the book under her arm. "It's a ma… Wait, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure!" Gaston agreed, grinning.

"Uh, what year is it for you?"

Gaston scratched his head. To be honest, he really didn't know. He didn't pay that much attention. And so he just went, "17…" and then mumbled two more numbers.

Shrugging, Margalit went on, "It's a mall. A large group of stores all together."

Gaston looked boggled at this and decided to drop it.

"You like guns?" he inquired.

"Oh, I love guns," she replied.

"Do you hunt?" He couldn't really wrap his mind around a girl who liked guns. Of all the things for a woman to do! Why couldn't they just let men do the hunting and spend their time cooking and making babies?

"Not as much as I'd like to," Margalit replied, "Generally, I enjoy target shooting and skeet shooting." Gaston looked confused. "Skeet shooting is shooting clay pigeons. Clay sculptures made to look like pigeons, that is. Haven't you ever been to a shooting range?"

"Of course I've shot clay pigeons!" Gaston snapped, "I don't know where I am, but I don't appreciate you acting like wherever this is SO far advanced compared to where I'm from!"

You do have a point, thought Margalit, the same idiotic chauvinist groups are around nowadays.

"Well, I'm sorry, but this is the year 2006, so I don't really know all of what you had in the 1700s."

"They had me," Gaston replied, flexing his muscles, "And wasn't that enough?" Margalit laughed.

"By the way," she said, "I'm Margalit. Call me Gali."

"Bonjour, Gali. How does it feel to meet the most handsome man in the world?"

"It's a… pleasure."


	3. Chapter 3

"Wait," Gaston said after a moment, "You said… 2006?"

"Indeed. 2006."

"That's… really weird."

"If you say so. So," she continued, thinking to herself that she couldn't believe she was doing this, "Are you just going to stand around here all day? Let's go DO something. It's not every day someone shows up from the past."

"Especially someone as good looking as I am," Gaston added.

"If you say so," replied Gali dismissively. She turned towards a store. "Ooh, a bookstore!"

"Didn't you just COME from a bookstore?" Gaston asked in a bored voice, gesturing to her book.

"No, I bought this one at a different bookstore," she replied. Gaston rolled his eyes. Gali began to playfully argue with him for a few moments, going "Please…" and he replying, "No, I don't want to."

However, the argument cut to a close when Gali spied something from over Gaston's shoulder.

"Oh, crap," she grumbled, pulling a hold of him and attempting to pull him into a clothing store.

"Hey!" he snapped, brushing her off, "Get off me. Touchy. I know everyone finds my biceps irresistible, but please warn me beforehand."

"Oh, don't flatter yourself," Gali replied, rolling her eyes, "And just come on." Shrugging, he stepped inside the store with her. From her position of safety, Gali pointed a finger across the mall. "You see that guy over there?" She was pointed to a short, teenage African-American boy who was dressed in an Aeropostale hoodie and black jeans.

"Yeah?" Gaston replied.

"He's the most annoying person ever to walk the face of the Earth. Maybe even more annoying than you."

"Well, that's very diffi…Hey!" Gali snickered.

"His name is J.C. Roslyn. He's fifteen and believes he is God's gift to the stage, not to mention God's gift to women. But of course, you wouldn't know anything about THAT, would you, Gaston?" Gaston ignored Gali's ribbing and sized up the competition. J.C. was shorter than Gaston, less muscular, not nearly as good-looking, PLUS this guy had a skin tone that resembled whole-grain toast that had been sitting out for a few weeks. (Not, Gaston thought to himself, that one race was superior to another – but, as Gaston WAS the best-looking person in the entire world, he had to by definition be better looking than the best looking African man. And this guy was not even close to being the best-looking African man, even though Gaston hadn't seen a terribly large about of Africans back in France.)

"He's not as good-looking as I am," Gaston summed up simply.

"He's not as good-looking as a tin can," Gali replied, "But try telling HIM that. Oh God, he's turning this way." And, indeed, he was.

Sighting Gali, J.C. Roslyn exclaimed eagerly, "HI, GINA!"

"Gina?" Gaston asked, confused, "I thought your name was Gali."

"It is…" she replied, sarcastically noting, "One of J.C.'s most endearing traits is his absolute inability to remember anyone's name. Hide me, Gaston, hide me."

J.C. walked over to them, grinning widely and laughing a laugh that sounded like a vague cross between the laugh of Barney and the sound of a vacuum cleaner.

"Hi, Gina!" he said again, stepping in to her. "How are YOU today?" He continued speaking, going on about the new play he was in at school. Gaston watched him in confusion, growing more and more frustrated and angry. Gaston couldn't figure out what this guy was saying, but he could tell he was getting on Gali's nerves and that he continually emphasized every other word.

"This lady is mine," Gaston said angrily, putting a hand on Gali's shoulder. J.C. ignored him, not understanding French, and Gali brushed his hand away.

"Who's the guy?" J.C. mumbled in an annoyed tone, "Is he an actor? Has he been acting for as long as I have? Come on, Gina, you know you love me. But I only like you as a friend, I'm sorry."

"My name is GALI," Gali snapped.

"Really?" J.C. asked incredulously. Gali stepped forward and smacked herself in the head. "Now, why are you getting hype?" J.C. snapped, "I come over here and try to be friends with you, and…"

"I'm not getting hype!" Gali protested.

"Yes you are! You ALWAYS getting hype, Gina! Why?"

"I am not getting hype! YOU are getting hype!"

"You need to quit with the boojy act! You always get your friends to come in on the sidelines!" Now, Gaston still had no clue what he was talking about, which was well and good since Gali didn't have much of an idea, either.

"Please save me," Gali mumbled to Gaston. Gaston was glad to oblige. He picked up J.C. by his collar and walked a few paces across the mall, over to the fountain. With no words spoken in either French or English, and with no precursory action, Gaston dropped J.C. in the water. Gali burst out laughing. "HAHA!" she exclaimed.

"GINA! Why did you DO that?" J.C. whined, "You always getting hype!"

"Yes, I guess I am!" Gali gave in, snickering. "Why, thank you, Gaston."

"Glad to be of service."

"Learn anything from this?"

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, forget it."

**_Author Note:_ This chapter is somewhat of an inside reference. Lest anyone misconstrue this chapter: J.C. is NOT a stereotype or anything like that. He's based on someone I know… and he was asking for it. LOL And he actually does talk like this. **


	4. Chapter 4

"Well, now that THAT'S over with," Gali said with a groan, "Let's get out of this mall. But first let's go to that bookstore."

"Hey! I just did you a favor, and you still force me to go book-shopping with you!"

"The world's not fair, Gaston. Get used to it," Gali teased, walking up a few paces and slipping inside a Borders Express. Gaston shrugged and followed her through the store, looking with a mix of annoyance and curiosity at the books, all of which had titles that he couldn't read… then again, had the titles been in French, he would have had some difficulty as well.

Gali plucked a title from the shelf and began flipping through it. Attempting to show off his own intelligence, Gaston reached forward and picked up a book as well. He did this a few times before he grabbed one that seemed like it had might have a lot of pic…whoa.

Gaston's book was apparently titled "69 New Sex Positions to Try with Your Lover", and as he looked through it he began to think that perhaps Belle had a point, after all. Gali gazed over and began giggling.

"So, apparently Gaston DOES see the value of reading." Gaston was too engrossed in his book to notice the ribbing. He was also imaging a good amount of his photos with he and Belle substituted for the people in the photos. A young woman with chestnut hair dressed in a Borders employee uniform walked over and jabbed Gaston in the shoulder.

"Hey, you," she snapped, "If you're gonna read it, buy it."

"You want to try these out?" Gaston asked, putting his arm around the woman.

"Gaston, stop!" Gali cried in French. Rolling her eyes, she turned to the employee and said in English, "That's a foreign exchange student. He's not… well-versed in English, so he didn't understand what you asked him."

Shaking Gaston off her shoulder (he had ignored Gali's command), the employee pointed with one hand to the cash register and with the other one to the door.

"Choose one, si vous plait," she said sarcastically, walking off. Gali shrugged and put her book back.

"Can I buy this one?" asked Gaston.

"No."

"What is this? I even get…"

"No, Gaston."

"But I…"

"No, Gaston." They continued arguing back and forth as they walked out of the door, with Gali plucking Gaston's book from his fingers and sticking it back on the shelf. "Let's go somewhere," she suggested.

"But where?"

"Somewhere interesting. Well, as interesting as you can get in Philadelphia. How about the movie theater? You should get a kick out of that?"

"What's a movie theater?"

"Oh, you'll see."


	5. Chapter 5

"So, let me get this straight," Gaston said loudly, "Is that lady screwing her friend?"

"Gaston!" Gali chided, "Be quiet. This is a movie theater."

"Yes, I understand that, but I don't see why I have to be quiet." They were sitting in the middle of the film Cache, which, to Gaston and Gali's luck, had French dialogue and English subtitles. Several movie-goers were giving them dirty looks as Gaston again interrupted the film with commentary. He took another look at the woman on screen. "She's pretty. I'd have sex with her, too." Gali's jaw dropped.

"Pig!" she snapped.

"Hey!" snapped a patron, "I paid a good eight dollars for this, so shut your mouth. And you're in America! Speak English!" Gaston responded by telling him something he could do with his mother. Luckily, neither side understood what the other was saying, although both could pick up on the latent hostility. Gali touched Gaston's shoulder, attempting to hold him in his seat.

At that point in time, the man onscreen pulled out a knife and slit his own throat. Various exclamations of "Oh my God!" "What was that?" "Oh man!" and other similar thoughts went through the theater. Gaston's eyes opened wide.

Although he was shocked as well, Gaston decided this was a perfect opportunity to show his spitting ability. He crammed a piece of popcorn in his mouth and reeled back, firing it directly at one of the onscreen extras.

"It's him again!" screamed the angry patron from before.

"Gaston," hissed Gali, "Let's get out of here!" She grabbed a hold of Gaston's arm and pulled him out the emergency exit, stream-lining down Market Street and then down a set of stairs leading to the subway. Panting, she pointed at Gaston and wagged her finger.

"You should have let me stick around," Gaston whined, "I could've fought him!"

"I wasn't worried about YOU," snapped Gali, "Now you need to learn how to behave in polite company. The entire world's not a tavern, Gaston!" She shook her head. "Until then, let's head to the most uncivilized place I know of."

"Which is?"

"Clearview High School."


End file.
